Chapter 2 - The Confrontation at the Gangway
Brandon’s face immediately twisted into an expression of theatrical disbelief mixed with condescending amusement. For years, he had regarded Cassie’s military career as an inflated family mystery—a series of vague administrative assignments in Washington or remote overseas bases that he convinced himself were far less important than she let on. Seeing her here, on his pier, beside his ship on Memorial Day, struck his arrogant nature as an uninvited intrusion.
He handed his coffee cup to a startled seaman beside him and took three wide, aggressive strides across the wet concrete, stepping directly into Cassie’s path just as she reached the bottom step of the gangway.
Without warning, Brandon reached out, grabbed Cassie firmly by her upper arm, and spun her forcibly toward him in full view of the surrounding sailors.
The heavy fabric of her dark trench coat twisted beneath his fingers. Several nearby sailors turned instantly at the sudden physical motion, their eyes widening as they recognized the breach of protocol on an active naval pier.
Brandon leaned down, his voice loud enough to carry over the sound of the snapping flags:
“What are you doing here dressed like this?”
Cassie did not flinch. She did not stumble, nor did her expression shift into surprise or anger. Instead, her head slowly tilted downward. Her icy, clear eyes tracked the fingers gripping her sleeve, noting the pressure, the angle, and the physical disrespect. Then, with deliberate, chilling slowness, her gaze lifted until her eyes locked directly into his.
May you like
Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet, low, and laced with the steel of absolute authority:
“Take your hand off me, Petty Officer.”
